


AfterHell

by Naarci



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2020-09-06 21:20:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 14,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20298106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naarci/pseuds/Naarci
Summary: One year that you disappear. One year that we're looking for you, convinced that you're dead. One year and I finally find you, disfigured, tired of living, and these words, that you repeat: “Don't tell anything, to anyone.”





	1. The broken clock

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [AfterHell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19262872) by [Naarci](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naarci/pseuds/Naarci). 

> You want to read AfterHell but you don’t know Undertale? Please, read this: https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/art/What-You-Should-Know-To-Read-AfterHell-810134217

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> I’m back with a fanfiction based on Undertale by Toby Fox! First of all, I want to warn you: it wasn’t written for people sensitive to blood, gore, psychological torture etc to read, and even less for children! If you start it, you do so at your own risk u.u
> 
> That being said, here isn’t the original text. Two wonderful people helped me translate it: Lumargann and AGuardianOfDreams (on Deviant Art) I can never thank them enough!
> 
> We are amateurs so I hope it’s at least understandable ahah
> 
> We’re doing our best in update and grammar but if you see anything strange please let me know!
> 
> I hope you’ll enjoy this horrible story! (that’s a weird thing to say ahah)
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s murky. In the bar, monsters are coming and are staying, in a brouhaha as strong as worried. They are greeting each other, exchanging whispers, are laughing and drinking. Nothing changes. Trough a window pane, an armed human regularly looks inside the room only to turn away again. Grillby is pouring one drink, two drinks, three drinks. He just has to take a look at the client to know what he wants; they always order the same thing, at the same hour. Smiles and coins are exchanged and everything continues like a scratched disc that would always repeat the same notes.

Minutes tick by. Soon, as usual, Papyrus comes in, leaving in his wake a glacial silence. He’s standing with his back hunched, head lowered, as if the weight of the very air is crushing him. All he has on him is a long black mantle that looks more like a dress.

He moves forward like a ghost, without a word, and he sits down at the counter. All the monsters are staring at him, maybe expecting him to start to cry, or to laugh. But nothing happens. Outside, an armed human knocks at the window, asking if everything’s okay, some nod heads. The barman takes a glass, fills it up with milk and puts it in front of the skeleton. The jingling of coins that hit the wood of the table resonates, Grillby glimpses the face of the consumer for a moment, he sees his dark rings etched in his bones, his cheeks still damp, the distress in his pupils. They remain silent. Papyrus stares at his glass. He will not touch it. During the few hours that will follow, he will stay like this. But, today, a monster decides to not respect the ritual. He goes toward Papyrus and breaks the walls surrounding him.

“Hi. How are you?”

The skeleton turns towards him but doesn’t reply. His interlocutor doesn’t take offense, after all, everybody knows.

“You haven’t any news yet?”

His eye sockets widen, this question is more painful than a thump. His face casts a shadow further, he restrains the tears but fails, so just settles for putting his head down to hide them while he shook his head. No, there wasn't any news.

Then the silence that reigned up to that point cracks and whispers are heard.

“Still not?”

“I can’t imagine his pain…”

“It could have happened to any of us…”

The monster leaves Papyrus. Discussions intensify, change subject, let’s not talk about it, and the atmosphere wrongly cheerful starts again, like always. Grillby distractedly wipes a glass. An armed human passes behind the window. The skeleton stares at the floor.

Each behavior is regulated in advance and is repeated constantly. A few hours pass and Undyne comes into the bar. She greets those who accost her, reassures others, she doesn’t smile. She makes a polite nod to Grillby then leans over to Papyrus. All her movements are sweating with concern. Carefully, to not push her friend, she repeats to him the same words as yesterday, and as the day before yesterday, and as every day.

“Papyrus? Let’s go home, it’s late.”

He looks at her, a little lost, then, seeming to recognize her, he nods and stands up. A movement towards the barman to wish him a good evening and the two friends go out, the guard supporting the skeleton. Monsters observe them leaving, feeling embarrassed by so much sadness, unaware of their own discomfort; they shrug their shoulders and pick their lively conversation up again. An armed human passes behind the window. Grillby cleans another glass.

Then, little by little, the bar empties. The last customers say goodbye to the human fire and leave him alone. Then, he sweeps the room, checks his stocks and smokes a cigarette outside. When he's finished, he waits a little. He knows he will come, as every evening, at the same hour. He arrives.

Papyrus was moving forward slowly in the snow. He stops in front of Grillby and then pronounces the only words of his days.

“If you have news… tell me, please…”

The barman could have reassured him, told him he already knew, that he repeats it to him every day… He keeps silent. He understands his pain but at the same time, he feels that already for too long, they aren’t part of the same world anymore. He managed to hang on, the other one let himself sink alongside of the dead.

“As soon as I have news, I will tell you.”

The skeleton smiles to thank him, a strange smile, nearly a morbid grimace. Then he returns to the cold and the street lamps are lighting up his twisted shape that drags itself along. Grillby follows it with his eyes.

(<https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/art/Thank-you-802190362>)

Snowflakes begin to fall, wrapping the landscape in a veil of exhaustion that crystallizes once again the city. But, an alarming detail breaks the strange routine. A shadow stands under the porch of a house. Huddled at the wall, it isn’t moving and is staring straight ahead at the place where the shape of Papyrus just disappeared, as if, for it, nothing existed but this distant form.

Grillby doesn’t know this shadow, and it worries him. Due to the last events, he’s always on guard and watches the surroundings, just in case. Then he approaches it. He realizes that it’s standing, it’s sticking to the wall, and it doesn’t hear him. He puts a hand on its shoulder; it jumps.

“Excuse me…”

It turns slightly its face toward him, revealing an eye, or rather an empty orbit. The barman pulls his hand back quickly, as if it had been burned. He hesitates, his voice trembles.

“Sans…?”

The shadow moves, reveals a little more of his face.

“Grillby” it murmurs.

Then the seconds speed up, life regains a consistence, living start breathing again. Time explodes.


	2. Don't say anything

(<https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/art/Under-the-snow-802193833>)

Grillby has difficulty calming down his heart rate. He doesn’t know where to begin, an avalanche of questions collapses on him, and this word: how? How can you be here today? I thought you were dead.

“Sans, is that really you?”

He approached again but, in front of him, the shadow moves back. His face still half hidden, he casts worried glances around them.

“Are you being chased?” the barman asks in a low voice.

Sans let his gaze fix on his friend for a few seconds. “I…” He starts but his broken voice gets lost in the snowflakes. He turns around, observing something intensely, the place where his brother has gone.

“I mustn't be seen...” he whispers.

Grillby also looks at their surroundings, wary, but there is no monster, nor guard.

“We could go at your home...”

“No!” he cuts him short, instinctively bringing a hand up to the part of his face that is still hidden. “Papyrus… Papyrus mustn’t see me… Nobody can know that I’m here.” He takes risks staying here, under the snow, near a street lamp, in plain view.

The barman, confused, can’t help asking. “Why? He has been waiting for so long… He is desperate…”

The skeleton lowers his head and clenches his fists. He says something that his friend can’t hear, so this one makes him repeat.

“How long?” asks the shadow. “How long has he been waiting for me? Tell it to me.”

And all the anguish of the world is in this trembling voice.

“It’s been…” Grillby hesitates. His friend seems on the brink of collapse so he doesn’t know what to do, soften the reality, tell him the truth, all those hours, all those minutes spent without him, waiting for him, and the time had no sense anymore. “It’s been more than one year.”

Sans cushion the blow. A whole year away from his loved ones, one year of dust that the wind blows away. He tightens the teeth and doesn’t move anymore. Maybe he would remained frozen like that forever.

The barman thinks he hears a noise, but he is hallucinating.

“Let’s go to my home.”

His friend nods in silence. They start walking, the bar is a few steps away. The skeleton limps. One of his legs supports him with difficulty, and he moves forward slowly. Under the weary fabric that he’s using to hide himself, he’s naked. Grillby doesn’t say anything, but feels his stomach twist to this vision.

They enter the establishment; the fire man turns on the light.

“Eh. Looks exactly like the bar in the Underground” Sans notices.

He approaches a table, and runs his fingers over it. They really are the same as before. He never thought he’d see this room again. His hand is shaking; he quickly hides it.

Grillby moves toward him.

“Do you need anything? You want to sleep or… You are hungry maybe? Or…”

Stains on the floor grab his attention. Small red droplets have landed on the floor.

“Are you hurt?” He’s startled.

“It’s nothing.”

“Sans, you… you were limping. You need to get examined.”

“Don’t call anyone!” For the second time, he raises his voice but, immediately, he picks up his dragging voice again. “I’m fine. I’ve already been… treated.” The last word seems to have cost him. His face hardens. “I… I beg ya, don’t tell anyone I’m here. I wasn’t suppose to meet someone… Please, do it for me.”

“But… Why?”

“I don’t want… I don’t want him to see me like that.”

Once again, he brings the hand to the part of his face still invisible.

“What are you hiding?”

“You don’t want to see this.”

Grillby sighs with grief. He places himself as high as his friend.

“Sans… I’m ready to keep quiet, to hide you if I have to but you have to show me. Please.”

The skeleton laughs with bitterness. But, as the barman doesn’t move, he shrugs his shoulders.

“Whatever you want.”

He drops the fabric of his face and he removes his hand.

Sans looks exhausted. His pupils shiver and shine very weakly. Dark circles were dug under its orbits, as well as hard features. Some mud — or blood — colors his bones. He is covered with scratches and bruises. But above all, his left socket is enlarged by a huge hole of about fifteen centimeters. It's like a hit had shattered part of his skull. From this wound come cracks that zigzag to the back of his head. Where three cracks meet, they form a small triangle whose inside is missing.

Disfigured. He was disfigured. And unrecognizable.

Grillby says nothing. In front of him, the skeleton, awkward, ends up turning and puts his hand back in front of his wound, even though it can be seen between the fingers.

“Do you need anything?” his friend asks.

“A shower would be good.”

The human fire nods.

“I will cook you something in the meanwhile.”

“Thanks.”

The barman’s apartment is upstairs. Sans climbs the steps of the stairs one by one, slowly. As he refuses his help, Grillby just settles to stand behind, in case he would fall. When they reach the top, he finds for him some clothes — the smallest he has — and Sans locks himself in the bathroom.

He takes off the long single fabric he’s wearing and throws it in a corner. He only wants one thing: to remove the traces he has on his body. As if, at the same time that the marks, he could get rid of what he has lived, tear this past out of himself, let himself flow with the water and disappear into the sewers.

A movement grabs his attention, and he ends up facing his reflection. His trembling hand meets the center of all the fissures that his skull has. He has already observed himself in a window or a puddle of water, he knows what he looks like, but he didn’t expect it to be so horrible. He had well earned his name of monster now. It was too horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
Thanks for reading!  
Yeah, very cheerful u.u What did you think? What could have happened to Sans? Feel free to comment ^^  
As I reread, I realized how much (or very little) information I was giving out all of a sudden. Don’t worry, the pace will calm down and you’ll (finally) understand what’s going on!  
For the ‘chapters’, I made them in variable length, to see how it turned out. I rather like the result. I’ll post them as soon as they’re translated.  
Small information: this story is also on Deviant Art, where I illustrate it! Feel free to take a look ^^  
Link: https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/gallery/69493780/AU-AfterHell


	3. How broken are you?

Grillby is waiting patiently, sitting in front of the dining table where a dish cooling down has been set. The last minutes repeat themselves in a loop in his head. More than one year that he’s searched for Sans, and in what state he finds him? He will not ask what happened to him. His friend seems too lost to talk about anything. The problem is, the barman isn’t a doctor and the skeleton needs treatment, even if he says the opposite. How is he going to help him get better?

The picture of Papyrus appears to his mind. Lying to him is going to be terrible. He would really like to run to his house, to inform him that his brother is alive. He won’t do it. Not right away. Sans must need some days for himself before seeing him. Then, everything will fall into place.

A strange sound disturbs him from his thoughts. He stands up and crosses the hallway. He stops in front of the bathroom door and calls his friend but this one doesn’t answer.

The sound is heard again — it’s a sound of swallowing. It comes from the toilets. The door is half-opened, Grillby can see that his friend spit something in the bowl.

“Sans? Are you okay?” He’s worried.

The skeleton leaned against the wall and let himself slide.

“It’s nothing” he whispers.

A purple liquid that Grillby has never seen drips from his mouth. Sans wipes it with the back of his hand.

“It’s nothing” he repeats.

“Do you know what is this?”

The skeleton sighs. He now seems to be close to fainting. The pupil of his destroyed left socket has completely disappeared; the other has become desperately blurry.

“It’s anti-magic.”

Anti-magic. This word, terrible, is like a thump. Most monsters think Sans is dead just because he has the ability to teleport and, if he really had been kidnapped, it would have been simple for him to come back. Expect that a product anti-magic was created at the time of the arrival of the monsters at the surface, three years ago. But, what makes Grillby nervous at this moment, is the fact that magic is vital to the monsters. Their whole body works through it and deprived of it, they simply die. Was there an attempt to kill Sans?

“You know how to take it out of your body?” he finally asks, anxious.

“I do what I can.”

Sans closes his single orbit. He barely breathes. He now wears a pair of pants that are too big for him and a t-shirt that allows to see his forearms. The radius bone of the right arm is broken in two near the wrist and a long piece lamentably hangs. Grillby wonders how many other such terrible wounds his friend is hiding.

(<https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/art/Anti-magic-804063417>)

“There is no other way to take out this anti-magic? Gaster” he continues “might be able to treat you.”

“Eh. I avoid my brother, but you suggest to me to see my father?”

Grillby doesn’t know how answer. Sans had never ever admitted that Gaster was his progenitor. For some unknown reason, he hates him, and although everybody suspects that they are somehow bound, nobody could prove that it wasn't only rumors.

The skeleton settles back as much as he can, his back still against the wall, and sighs. He coughs and some purple liquid splashes his hand. He closes his socket, exhausted.

“Sans, you...”

“Do what you want, Grillby but Papyrus should know nothing. Please.”

“Yes. Yes, all right. Stay here, I’ll be quick.”

He abandons his friend and runs into the living room, where he finds his telephone. He calls the scientist one time, two times, three times. He glances towards the clock hanging on the wall. Soon two o’clock in the morning. He phones directly to the laboratory. At the first ringtone, a sleepy voice answers him.

“Yes, Grillby?”

“I need you, it's urgent. I can’t give you all the details but...”

“What’s that for?”

“Treat someone.”

“What do they have?”

“Uh… Various wounds more or less serious and… and anti-magic in the body.”

“Are you at your home?”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The relation between Sans and Grillby is simple: they are best friend. But the relation between Sans and Gaster is totally complex and freaky!  



	4. Hey, dad

Gaster arrives with a full bag on the back and a suitcase, full too. Grillby is waiting for him at the entrance of the bar. They get straight to the point.

“What is going on?” Asks the scientist.

“He is… He told me that he has been treated” he whispers “but I don’t know how true it is and…”

“Who’s this, he?”

“It’s… Sans.”

Gaster stops. He takes the time to let the information sink into him and spread in all his being, making him shiver. He thinks about Papyrus who has been affirming and repeating for one year that his brother is alive, that they have to keep looking for him, at any cost, because there is still hope. He was right. He wasn’t crazy. Sans is finally back.

However, he’s injured. The scientist mustn't be overwhelmed by feelings and must stay calm until his son is out of danger. So he retains his emotions and he lets the human fire guide him to the first floor.

“He wants no one to know about his return” this one murmurs.

Gaster nods the head without taking into account this declaration. Later.

In the toilets, Sans hasn’t move. Still sitting on the ground, he seems even worse than when Grillby left him. Hearing the door opening, he comes to his senses with some difficulties. He turns the head towards the comers, revealing the left side of his skull.

“Hey...” He whispers with a broken voice.

Surprising the two monsters, Gaster drops to his knees, takes him in his arms and holds him tight against him.

“You’re alive, you’re alive…”

“Eh, of course I’m alive. What did you expect, huh? I could never leave Pap behind, me I… I…” Sans’ voice is getting weaker and weaker until it becomes quiet. Tears roll over his cheeks.

His father moves away to plundge his gaze into his eyes.

“I love you Sans.”

How many years has it been that he couldn’t tell him that? How many times had they avoided each other, both of them? Impossible to tell.

Sans lowers his head. Gaster peeks towards the purple liquid. According to what Grillby learned to him, it’s not hard to understand what it is. He clenches his fists. What did they do to you, Sans? He keeps this question for him.

(<https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/art/Whoever-did-this-to-you-he-will-pay-804089313>)

He takes the body in his arms, raises it and asks the barman.

“Is there somewhere I can be quiet? With a table, if possible.”

“The kitchen.”

Grillby takes the scientific stuff and takes him to the room. Then, on his order, he leaves the two skeletons alone.

Gaster puts Sans on the table. This one didn’t seem to have slept for several days. He is like a marionette with a conscious. The scientist passes a hand over his skull and observes him. For the cracks, he could attempt to mak some of them disappear with magic but for his exploded socket, no treatment could bring it back to its initial state. He grits his teeth but contains his rage; he needs to stay focused.

His eyes go down. There are some wounds to be treated, but without urgency. He makes him take off is tee-shirt. There, on his body, he discovers scars. His ribs were broken in several places and on different occasions, then they have been treated clumsily. Or, in other words, treated by a human doctor who knew nothing about monsters. Could it be the mark of the one who helped Sans escape? But, certain scars seem to be at least a few months old and others a few days. Questions later, the scientist repeats to himself.

Sans’ pelvis has been shifted, maybe after a thump, preventing him from walking normally. He needs a surgery to put it back in place but Gaster didn’t take the necessary for that.

He starts to understand. Sans was made to ingest anti-magic in small doses, to avoid killing him, but in enough quantity to prevent him from using attacks. The problem is that it disturbs the monster’s body system even so, from digestion to breathing. The skeleton endured this treatment for a year but a little longer, and he would have been killed.

Gaster takes a deep breath to calm down; his hands mustn’t tremble while he treats him. He manages to control his anger through one thought: whoever did this, he will pay, dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans is still far from being out of danger. (It would be silly if he died now - well, thanks for reading the fiction, it was short//SBAM//)  



	5. I wish I could help you better

When Grillby hears footsteps, he rises directly. Gaster closes the door of the kitchen quietly behind him and notices him. He joins him in the living room.

“How’s he?”

“He fell asleep.”

He looks behind him, where was Sans, then focuses again on the barman.

“He forced his soul to reject the anti-magic. It’s destructive, but it’s normal that it was the only thing he had thought of. I managed to stabilize his magic, and to manually remove the substance. It’ll take some time but soon, he’ll regain all his potential.

I have to operate on his pelvis. I will do it tomorrow, I just need to get the necessary equipment. I bandaged his broken arm too and managed to close some fissures of his skull but as for his eye socket, there is nothing left to do.”

The two monsters gaze at the floor. Questions flutter in the air, but they don’t dare to say them aloud: what happened to him? Who did this to him? Why? Is he out of danger?

The scientist sighs.

“I’ll go by Papyrus’ home to pick up some clothes. Thanks for taking care of him, Grillby. Thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing, he’s my friend but… you really want to go now to Papyrus’ house?”

“Yes, I know I won’t bother him. It’s been a long time since he can’t sleep.”

“No, I mean… given the state you’re in, you might worry him more than anything else. And if you intend to operate on Sans tomorrow, you better get some sleep.”

Gaster, who always took care to hide his pain, was getting now closer to the attitude of his youngest son: back crooked, hands shaking, the dark circles under his sockets due to the use of magic, face decomposed and wet, even though he seems to have tried to hide his tears.

He swings from one foot to the other then ends up sagging on the couch.

“Yes, you are right, Grillby. Thank you.”

“You want me to prepare something?” He offers before remembering that Sans is still in the kitchen.

“No, I don’t need anything. Could you just… tell me what happened?”

The barman nods. He takes a chair, sits on it and tells him everything. The more the story progresses, the more Gaster’s face tenses up. When Grillby is done, the scientist thanks him. The fire man goes back in his room, the skeleton lies on the couch. Neither of them will sleep.


	6. One more day

It was during a great party. Monsters had passed through the barrier thanks to Frisk three years ago. Three years that they lived under the real sky and that they observed the vastness of the world. Now, the idea that maybe they could go back into the prison bearing the name of Underground was unbearable. Their king, Asgore, had never ceased to hope for peace between humans and his people and Frisk had maintained the view to humans that they weren’t dangerous. At last, it was finally granted to them the right to live legally at the side of humans, under the same laws. Obviously, there were still a lot of problems to be solved, and all the politicians hadn’t had the monsters in their hearts but it was a first victory, so they all wanted to celebrate it.

It was a beautiful day. There were no cloud on the horizon, it was warm, a slight breeze carried away the music notes that monsters played. All smiles, people were having fun, dancing, eating, drinking. Hope was there. Frisk was at the center of these festivities, she who had supported them so much. She was living with Toriel, she went to school with the other monster children and had grown so much that she was now taller than Sans.

Yes, Sans was there, too. He was lazing around from stand to stand. He seemed finally appeased. Papyrus was happy, the monsters, filled with joy, he wasn’t asking more. He enjoyed the party with his friends.

When evening came, there was one last show, then fireworks. When the moment to come back arrived, Papyrus looked for his brother, who must have fallen asleep somewhere once again. How annoying this habit was! It had been at least two hours since he had lost sight of him, he should not have been that far anyway. He wasn’t answering his phone. This joke isn’t funny. Sans, where are you?

He never found him.

Papyrus was sitting on a chair, in the kitchen. His legs folded over his chest, his head put on his knees. His sockets wide opened, tears still dripping from them, he looked through the half-light at a photo carefully kept in a frame, this one resting on the table. It shows the first monsters out of the Underground and the little human. They smile. Behind spreads the sky that they’ve waited for so long.

Soon, the day will rise. Papyrus hasn’t moved since he got home from the bar and sat here, the day before. He’s waiting. He’s waiting for his brother, for more than one year, but this one doesn’t come back, and the more time passes, the longer it seems and the more the skeleton loses life bit by bit.

(<https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/art/He-waits-for-his-brother-805805050>)

He tried to do like his father, to bear, to stop worrying about others, to live again. He failed. Nothing affects him anymore. He sits down in the dark and doesn’t move, crawling to carry out the living wage just to stay alive, as long as his brother still is. Because yes, Sans is alive. They can tell him anything they want, he knows he’s alive. He just doesn’t know when he will come back, or if he will come back one day. He also feels that he’s suffering, and that it’s kill him.

The sound of the doorbell makes him jump. His bubble of suffering explodes and he regains contact with reality. Like every time, a burst of hope embraces him, maybe it’s his brother. However, the silhouette he sees behind the door isn’t the one expecting. As fast as the hope comes, it fades away. Papyrus looks through the window; the day is barely up, so it’s not Frisk that visits him before her classes. Undyne passes in the evening, so there is only one person left, capable to come at any hour: his father.

He stands up. His joints crack and he could barely walk because he remained paralyze in the same position far too long. He falls but catches himself awkwardly and crawls to the door. He opens it.

Gaster smiles at him gently. He still seems so tall, especially since his son has started to bend down. All dressed in black, he seems to have lost hope for ever. But, today, a little gleam is shining in his pupils, Papyrus sees it.

“Good morning, Papyrus.”

He gets him into the house. This same house that used to be so well organized before is now untidy and filthy but no one dares to make the comment.

“I would need some Sans’ things.”

“… Again?” He managed to blow.

“Again, yes. The police need them again.”

Papyrus doesn’t ask any questions. Some people continue to look for his brother, it’s all that matters. He had also gone looking for him but although the monsters have now a legal status, they don’t have yet the right to wander alone outside the space they have been assigned; especially after the “Sans case”, it was too dangerous. So they forced him to do nothing and as he didn’t obey, Undyne had started to watch him, in addition to supporting him. Today, there’s no need anymore, he doesn’t have the strength anymore.

He climbs up slowly the stairs and opens the door of the bedroom of his brother. It had been completely finished shortly afterwards his disappearance, so well that he didn’t use it nearly. Papyrus, however, spent hours in it.

“What do they need?”

“T-shirts, pants, bottoms…”

“So many?”

“Maybe they can find him through that.”

He doesn’t answer. The wardrobe of Sans was originally pretty empty, because his brother is too lazy to buy clothes. The police had already requisitioned some in the past and there is now almost nothing left. That’s okay, he will get his possessions back when he returns. Papyrus gives to Gaster what he asked for.

“I will come back later” he promises to him.

His son agrees. Once alone, he drops himself on the bed, curls up and doesn’t move anymore. He’s waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wait, for more than one year for the moment, for ten if he has to. I can’t imagine his pain.  
First passage in the past! There’s gonna be a bunch of others!  



	7. The one who knows must be quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the loooong delay and for this small chapter, the following should be posted faster

Grillby can’t stay still. He frequently casts a glance at the clock; minutes seem to pass very slowly. He would like to go upstairs, to cross the hall and to go to his room to make sure Sans doesn’t need anything, but it’s rush hour, he can’t allow himself to leave. So he goes round in circles, checks for the umpteenth time if all the glasses are clean, if the fridge is settled to the right temperature; he serves one person, two, three, makes repeat the orders, I didn’t hear, what do you want? It is pointed out to him that he seems miles away today. Yes, it’s right, he is a little, but nothing serious.

Then the door opens and a shadow ventures into the bar. The fire monster had never noticed how much Papyrus may look like his brother. He moves the same way as him, ready to fall down; his steps are heavy, however, his swings give the impression that he will evaporate at any moment.

With him, the barman is careful and doesn’t break the ritual. Though, this ritual has no longer any reason to be. Sans is right upstairs, so close to him. All he would have to do is to climb up some steps to be released from the weight that overwhelms him. His wait would be done; he would discover his brother in a bed, a socket closed, the other taken away with a part of his face. He would discover his wounds, his broken arm, his mortified bones. He would discover this body that doesn’t move, that doesn’t seem to live. He would discover a corpse. Grillby lowers his face. He finally understands why his friend refuses that he informs someone.

He can’t look Papyrus in the eyes today but the skeleton doesn’t realize it, lost in the contemplation of his glass that he will not drink. Both, they are shivering for the same person. Both, they have the impression that the laugh of the monsters in the bar increases, is getting bigger and drags them down with its flow. They drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only request from Sans was to say nothing. Until then, Grillby respected his will by friendship. Now that he understood why his friend wants that, it’s weighty to bear.  
Feel free to comment, it's always nice ^^


	8. Regrets

The scientist feels bad. He would like to stand up and take a walk, but he’s afraid it’ll disturb his son so he settles for open and close his hands.

In front of him is a bed and in this bed, a shadow. It doesn’t move. It doesn’t make a sound. Gaster already leaned towards it several times, to make sure it’s breathing; it’s weak but there, there’s nothing to worry about. That it is now plunged into a deep sleep is also quite normal; its magic needs time to regain its stability of yesteryear. Only after, it will focus on the wounds; the broken bone will take more than one month to knit and Sans will have to bear a heavyrehabilitation for his hip.

Gaster grits his teeth. He’s made the wounds’ count of his son putting his feelings apart but now, it’s hard to bear it. The skeleton has painful traces at the level of his neck; marks probably left by chains. And his soul… He wants to cry just thinking about it. It was surrounded by a little white string, that can look harmless at the first sight. This string, the scientist knows it. It was used during the war that opposed the monsters and the humans then it has been improved and put back into circulation when the monsters have achieved to go out the Underground. It is dotted of little flat circles. These ones allow sending electrical shocks, more or less powerful, directly inside the soul. Gaster can’t imagine the pain that it must be. He must have waited some days before finding the right material that has allowed him to remove this string because, obviously, if you try to retire it, an automatism locks in and send a shock.

For more than a year, Sans was at the total mercy of someone, or maybe at group. What did they do to him? If the scientist had the culprits in front of him, he would kill them immediately. However, he doesn’t know who they are and maybe his son will never say it to him.

He sights. He runs his hand over the face of his child. He’s full of remorse. Sans and him hadn’t seen each other for maybe five years when this one disappeared. He never should’ve let an abyss so deep have the opportunity to grow wider between them.

Sans always considered him more like a stranger than a father and this one let him do so, telling himself that it was his right. He now bitterly regrets it. He shouldn’t have given up, and maybe deep down, the child the skeleton was at this moment felt betrayed that he accepted his remoteness as simple.

He shakes himself up. He doesn’t have a clue, there’s no need to make hypothesis. Sans is alive, that’s all that matters. Gaster smiles. Then his face distorts and tears drip from its sockets. He takes the hand of his son, squeezes it tightly.

“I’m sorry Sans… So sorry…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realizing your mistakes too late, it always hurts, right, Gaster?  



	9. A deadly cold

It didn’t take more than five minutes and no one saw it coming. It should be said that it was the party and that each of them was joyfully enjoying the good weather, including Sans. He was taking a walk peacefully in the crowd when he saw a quiet spot, a little further, where he could rest. He headed towards there, his hands in his pockets, lulled by the songs and the brouhaha of the happy monsters. He sat down on a stone wall, his legs dangling. A smile on his face, he slowly slipped into sleep.

He was dragged back, making him fall behind the wall. The skeleton opened up his sockets to discover three humans whose lower face was hidden. It took him less than a second to recover his senses and activate his magic, ready to defend himself. However, the men were faster than him. Two were holding him to the ground while the third was pressing a cloth on his nose and his mouth. The monster wanted to throw his attack but suddenly, a pain in his skull assault him. The bone he had just made appear instantly vanished without him wanting it and his sight blurred. He understood the emergency of the situation and teleported himself. Or, at least, tried to. He got a little late that the cloth held against his face must have contained a product he shouldn’t have breathe. Around him, the world was spinning and the distant party’s brouhaha was replaced by shrieking shouts.

Suddenly, he suffocated. He couldn’t breathe. The air didn’t want to go in anymore. Sans wanted to struggle but, although the men had retreated, he remained unable to move his members, despite his best efforts. A menacing shadow leaned over him. In the chaos around him, the monster clearly perceived a syringe, a laugh, a violent pain in his arm, a pain that spreads throughout the being, an icy cold wave that devastates everything. A deadly cold.

Finally the black. Complete.


	10. That silence that you didn’t break

Sans woke up. After six days of a sleep that felt like death, he finally opened his eyes. When Grillby pushes the bedroom door and that the hallway’s light illuminates a seated form, an immense joy overwhelms him.

“Sans!”

He rushes towards him and… a doubt takes him. His friend is laying on the bed, his back resting against the pillow, the pillow leaning against the wall. He turns his face towards him, his facial features drawn by exhaustion, and moving as little as possible.

“Sans…?” he repeats, worried.

The skeleton stares at him and Grillby is afraid because he doesn’t recognize him.

“Do you need anything? Are you hungry?” he inquires in the same tone.

Sans shakes his head negatively.

“I’m going to call Gaster…”

The skeleton shrugs his shoulders and averts his pupils. The barman’s anguish becomes painful. He doesn’t understand. When they found themselves, a few days ago, his friend was quite able to speak. He was exhausted, wounded, terrified, but alive. Now, it feels like he isn't anymore.

“There is no wonder he’s behaving like this, Gaster later reassures him. When you encountered him, he was pushed by adrenaline. Now, he’s reconnecting with reality, and he needs time. Just needs time.”

However, seeing the gaze the scientist casts towards the bedroom after seeing his son, Grillby quick understands that he’s just trying to persuade him. They are both helpless faced with this situation.

Gaster comes to the barman three time a day. He’s going through the back door of the establishment and can go back and forth as much as he wants because Grillby gave him a duplicate keys. After Sans woke up, he keeps going at this pace. He’s making him eat, helping him get washed and checking the state of his injuries.

Sans doesn’t speak, barely moves, barely eats and barely drinks. Once, his father had to quickly carry him to the toilet so that he could spit out everything he had ingested earlier. When Grillby inquired about his state, Gaster reassured him: it’s normal, he ate too much. The fireman then wondered if they had the same definition of “too much”.

He thought about how he can help his friend. As soon as he can, he goes back home, and he goes to see him. The skeleton is always sitting in the same position, and he’s always staring at the darkness with the same vacant look. Once, he found him terrorized, shaking, his left eye glowing blue although he’s still unable to use his magic. Perhaps he’s afraid his torturers will find him, Grillby thought. So he assured him:

“You are safe here.”

He walked up to him and hugged him. He felt Sans’ breath calm down, very quickly. When he moved away from him, for the first time, he saw his friend try to talk. His mouth moved but no sound came out. So he settled for a look. Thank you.

Since then, when Grillby comes, he talks for two. He tells only trivial anecdotes; he did try some subjects as Papyrus, or the monsters in general, or also the progress of their people’s legal position but Sans stopped him each time with a glance. Don’t speak about it, not yet. The fireman didn’t mind. So he relates the story of a flood that happened after a leak, of the snowman that some children built, of a food contest, finally of everything that is not important but can entertain him.

The skeleton doesn’t look at the barman when he monologues; one would think he doesn’t listen. Yet, whenever Grillby is about to leave, he’s giving him that same grateful look before plunging back into the contemplation of darkness.

And it’s as if a quite different image was unfolding before him.

(<https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/art/I-m-here-with-you-809366556><https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/art/You-are-safe-here-809365918>)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter that stretches over several days. Good thing Grillby is here, otherwise the skeleton’s dark thoughts would have drowned him by now.  
Feel free to share your thoughts and leave a comment if you feel like it ^^


	11. Because you are only an object

John, hands in pockets, smiling, was moving forward with a sure gait around the city. The sun was crushing the buildings, the air was heavy and humid, people were walking preferably in the shade but for now, the young man in his twenties completely disregarded that. He’d made a great deal, and that put him in a good mood, it was all that mattered.

Whistling, he turned into an alley and scrutinized the entrance of a building. As he excepted, there was no one. Even though Marc was seventeen years older than him, he was always the one who arrived late. Cursing, John grabbed his phone out of his pocket and called him several times, until he answered.

“But what the hell are you doing?” He began for any greeting. “You’re supposed to-”

“Yeah, yeah, comin” he cut him off before he hung up.

John made an effort to calm his anger, grinned and bore it. Fifteen long minutes later, the door of the building opened at last and Marc came out, a girl behind him. The two exchanged a few words then the woman leaved. John came nearer to his friend.

“One more. What’s the name of that one?”

“Pff, no idea. Ain’t like I’m gonna see her again.”

Marc lighted a cigarette. He took the time to savor it a little before asking:

“Well, what’s this good news?”

“Hey! I’m not going to spoil the surprise! You’re going to follow me!” he bounced up and down.

“Great…”

They set off on their way, the youngest trying to make guess to the other what he wanted to show him, the oldest, ironic, answering anything and everything.

Finally, they reached a bar. Once, it belonged to John’s father; the son had taken it over further to his death, several years ago. It was a space far from any law, where men came here to relax – or to let off steam.

John let his friend in and guided him inside without bothering to turn on the light; the place was admittedly plunged in the dark because built in the basement but both of them knew too much this place to need any help.

“Ain’t in the bar room?” Marc was surprised seeing the youngest venturing into his own area.

“No, no. Follow me!”

He opened the door of a room usually used to stock groceries and liquor. He turned on the switch, illuminating the room. As usual, large cupboards were hiding the walls and cases were placed all around. However, some space had been made towards the bottom, leaving a quite large empty space. On the floor was a collapsed form.

“What’s the…”

John let his friend walk past, too happy to see the surprise on his face. Marc advanced to the shape. It was a human, lying down, and who appeared dead. A chain linked his neck to the wall. A skeletal hand was visible. Marc frowned.

“It’s ta show me a corpse that ya brought me here?”

“Yeah, it looks bad… But don’t you get it? It’s a skeleton! A fucking monster!”

“Yeah…”

Marc touched it with the tip of his foot and, as it didn’t react, he turned it over. The monster had its eyes shut and its features hardened by the pain. It didn’t seem to be faking fainting.

“Dunno much ’bout monsters but this one really looks like it’s dying.”

John joined him. He gazed at the skeleton and winced.

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s wrong with it. They told me that was normal.”

“Who’s they?”

“The dealers, of course!”

Marc thought for a few moments.

“They didn’t tell ya anything? Y’know what it eats at least?”

“It’s omnivorous! Anyway, they slipped me something, wait…”

John retraced his steps and rummaged through a shelf. He pulled out a tube containing a purple liquid.

“Here it is!”

He held it out to Marc who observed it.

“What’s that?”

“Anti-magic, apparently.”

The oldest glanced at the monster that hadn’t moved.

“’Might explain its state.”

“Huh?”

“Dunno much ’bout monsters” he repeated “but I heard that for ’em, magic’s vital. Basic’lly, yer croakin’ it.”

“Oh no! I paid dearly for it!”

Marc sneered then leaned over the skeleton. He lifted up its shirt to uncover its rib cage.

“Fuck! Unbelievable! Ya can even see his soul!”

John had stepped back, innocently, in case the monster woke up.

“Look” his friend invited him “if it really eats but ain’t got stomach, maybe that’s magic?”

“Yeah…”

Curious, Marc took the skull between his hands and raised its eyelids. He put his finger inside and burst out laughing.

“His head’s empty! It must be dumb as shit!” He showed the skull to his friend. “Lookit the smile it makes! It seems thrilled ta be here!”

“Yeah… Careful, don’t break it now, okay?”

Marc sighed at the lack of enthusiasm of the youngest. He let the skeleton fall down and stood up.

“So what?” John worried. “I don’t want it to die!”

“Give it less anti-magic already. Maybe it’s gonna get it back on its feet.”

“But it’s gonna get its powers back! It’s gonna kill me!”

“Don’t think it can do ya any harm, given its state, y’know.”

John displayed a sulky expression, showing his disagreement. Marc sighed in exasperation; he hated when he was being childish.

“Well ya just put a thingummy on its soul… Y’know, the electrical thing, ya control it with that.”

“What electrical thing?”

“Fuck, John, ya don’t even know that? Ya might know ’bout it godamnit, everyone’s talkin’ about it!” He sighed and lighted a second cigarette to calm himself. “It’s a thing that goes on the soul, ya've got a remote control’n ya can send a remote electric shock… We used it during the war. They’ve put it back on sale since the monsters came back, ’m sure ya can find some on the net.”

“Really? Great!”

Marc blew smoke.

“OK, it’s cool if it survives, but what’cher gonna do with it? Use it as a pooch?”

“You still don’t get it, Marc? Anyway, I’ll explain.” He took a theatrical position that ended up irritating the oldest. “I’m going to exhibit it at the bar! I'm sure that’s going to attract a lot of customers! Can you imagine? The bar where you can see a living monster!”

“Just see it? Crap.”

“Well, I don’t know, we could do other stuffs, games, and people will pay to do them…”

Marc burst out laughing.

“Yer so naive, guy! Well, I wish ya good business.” He checked the time on his phone. “Offer me a drink? A drink for yer friend who just avoided the death of yer toy…”

“Anyway, that’s the only reason you came” he grumbled. “Come on, let’s go.”

They left. John turned off the light and locked the door, leaving the skeleton completely in the dark. It had not moved.

The two friends took their place at a table. They actively talked about the monster; all the same, this story had aroused Marc's interest.

“Why don’t’cha ask a doctor? Don’t think that monsters’n men are very close but… Or maybe a vet?”

“I know one! Wait, I’ll call him.”

And he did. He explained the situation to him and when he hung up, he had a smile on his face.

“So?”

“He’s coming in five minutes! And with the white thread!”

“The white thread…?”

“The thing for the soul” John sighed.

“What the hell was he doin’ with that at home? Who’s this?”

“You must have seen him before, he's always sitting in the back of the room. You know, a bald man, pretty big.”

Marc frowned. He remembered.

“Ah yes, this guy.” He took a weary face: “Didn't know ya two were gettin’ along. Since when is he yer buddy?”

John shrugged his shoulders.

“He drinks a lot, it fills up the till. And above all, he doesn't throw up when he drank too much, unlike some people.” Marc rolled his eyes. “And, he knows a lot of stuff. There aren't many learned people around here.”

“No wonder” he sighed leaning against the chair.

They heard someone knocking at the door.

“He said five minutes, not two” Marc grunted.

John got up and went to open it.

“Thanks for coming, man!”

“It’ll be worth a drink, right?” replied the veterinarian, Oliver, with a wink.

John grimaced, thinking he was the second one of the day to come out with that sentence. “Yeah, sure.”

“So, where is that monster?”

When they entered the main hall, Marc and Oliver greeted each other. Then the three of them went into the pantry. The savant first observed the room. His first remark was: “You should empty this place, it could use the objects to escape.”

“Are you kidding? It’s tied to the wall and it can’t reach anything!”

“You don't know the extent of magic. Maybe it can stretch his arms or float objects.”

John swallowed his saliva. His purchase was supposed to bring him money, not put him in danger! Oliver’s face lit up as he discovered the skeleton.

“But… it’s Sans!”

“Who?” John was surprised.

“Y’know it?” Marc was suspicious.

“Don’t you watch TV? They've been talking about its disappearance since yesterday.”

Marc glanced at his friend.

“You could get in trouble.”

“Who would pick it up here?” interfered the veterinarian.

“He’s plannin’ ta exhibit this thing in the bar.”

“But who'd worry about its fate here?” the youngest added.

“He fell in the worst place” the savant smiled. “Nobody takes care of anyone here, so a monster? It’ll just make a nice decoration.”

Marc shrugged his shoulders. Oliver turned towards the skeleton and verified that it was really unconscious – indeed, it was. He sat down on the floor and undid the monster’s top to observe the soul through the bones.

“Indeed, it’s gonna die soon if it goes on like this. They told you to give it three tubes of anti-magic per day, didn't they? What assholes.”

“You know what to do?” John worried.

“Yeah. But it’s not going to be pleasant for it.”

He leaned over the body and moved his hand forward. He concentrated for a few moments then, suddenly, the soul that was in the rib cage was between his fingers.

“Great! How do you do that?” The youngest exclaimed.

“You can do it too.”

He closed his hand on it, crushing it violently. The reaction was immediate. The skeleton’s body tightened. The monster began to jolt then finally to vomit a purple liquid in a disgusting noise.

“Stop!” John panicked. “You’re going to kill it!”

“I know what I’m doing” he grunted.

He constricted the soul once again. The monster writhed in two as he kept throwing out the substance. When the vet stopped the pressure, it fell heavily to the ground. It was taking deep breaths of air.

“Ah! It’s better now!” Olivier turned to the two men who stayed further back. “Monsters need magic to breathe. It was dying of asphyxia. With less anti-magic in its body, it feels better right away… Look!”

While talking, he had turned to the skeleton. Its breathing was hoarse and its hands were desperately trying to hold on to something. In its sockets opened by pain, two quivering pupils had appeared. It had regained consciousness; yet, it couldn’t understand what was happening.

“Nice to meet you, Sans” the savant taunted. He turned to John: “No more than one dose of anti-magic per day, understand?”

Then he focused his attention on the soul. He brought out of his pocket a white thread cut with fine circles that would allow the monster to be imprisoned for good. He smiled.

“You and me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a horrible chapter! Well. Who was expecting that Sans’s torturer would be a 20-year-old idiot?  
Don’t hesitate to comment, it’s always a pleasure ^^


	12. That smile too happy

Grillby is scrutinizing the path illuminated by lampposts and covered in white. Since the night Sans came back, it has been snowing without interruption. The evening is already well underway and the sky is black. Normally, at this hour, Papyrus meets the barman, always asking him the same thing: has he heard from his brother? However, tonight, he won’t come. Gaster called him; his son passed out, probably due to hypoglycemia, he really doesn’t eat enough.

The barman continues to observe the landscape. There’s not a sound, all the monsters have gone home. It’s cold but the fire monster takes the time to enjoy his cigarette. He’s searching in his memories for an anecdote he could tell Sans, in case he’s still awake.

Which is more than likely.

Every time he verifies that the skeleton doesn’t need anything, he’s always in the same position, in bed. He doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound and is staring into the darkness. What could he possibly see? Or what does he hope to see? The barman doesn’t know. If he could get inside his head and know what he’s thinking, maybe he could help him better. However, for now, all he’s capable of is telling trivial stories, making meals that he later vomits and watching him suffer.

He sighs deeply. He wipes these thoughts from his mind \- he doesn’t want Sans to see him depressed -, stubs out his cigarette and comes back. The bar is in order. Grillby makes a final check then goes up to the second floor. In the hall, he takes off his shoes and goes to the first room on the right, the living room, which has been used as his bedroom lately. When he lights up, he can’t hold back a scream.

Sans is there, sitting on the windowsill. His face is turned outwards, which he’s looking at as he raises the curtains. He is dressed in the clothes his father brought him, clothes from Papyrus’ house. A hood is covering his skull. His hands are hidden under the sleeves of a dark blue jacket. Dark trousers that are too big are overflowing on his feet, feet hidden by socks. The skeleton is disappearing under the layers of cloth.

When the light activates, Sans drops the curtains and turns. Here too, a turtleneck is hiding the bottom of his face and the hood is clumsily trying to make the hole in his skull look smaller. His pupils are upon the barman and against all odds, he smiles.

“Hey, Grillby. How’s it going?”

The barman  thinks he’s dreaming. Sans is  talking ! Shocked, he doesn’t think to answer so the skeleton continues: “ Long day ,  e h? Not too tired?”

“N… no, I’m fine…”

Once again, his friend smiles at him.

“Are you feeling okay?” Grillby worries. “I mean, uh, do you need anything? You’re hungry maybe?”

“Yeah, a little.”

He comes down from the windowsill, with some difficulties. He walks by leaning on what is within easy reach. His friend stays close by, ready to catch him.

The kitchen and the dining room are a  single room opposite the living room; they just have to cross the corridor. Sans takes a place at the table; Grillby  puts food to heat  and sit s down in front of him. He would  have  like d to ask  him why he lost his  speech , and how he found it again, but he says nothing,  inviting his friend to  start on his own. The skeleton is staring at a co rner o f the table in silence. Finally, he raises his face and asks:

“How’s Papyrus?”

The barman wasn’t expecting that either. Until now, the skeleton has always avoided the subject. However, Grillby responds to his request. He tells him that his brother is still living in the same place, that he’s still a member of the Royal Guards. He continues to water the flowers – even though it’s Undyne who drags him every time, but this detail is kept quiet. Every day, he sees Undyne, Frisk, and regularly Gaster. He goes out often. He’s always taking good care of their pet – which makes Sans laugh.

Sans laughs.  That’ s  incredible . It’s as if his  kidnapping wa s a  passed  bad mom ent,  that  all  that  remains are physical wounds, that they can  now  forget.

The skeleton is listening very carefully to his friend. He asks him questions, asks for clarifications. The conversation digresses, they move from Papyrus to Grillby, then to Frisk, then to Toriel, then to Undyne and so on and so forth.

At the same time, they eat. At least, the skeleton settles for three spoonfuls, no need to dream too much either. However, what surprises Grillby is that his friend asks him for a cigarette when, to his knowledge, he has never smoked. Or, at least, until one year ago, he had never smoked. The barman gives him one, doesn’t ask any question.

For part of the night, they talk like th is . Sans never  alludes to himself.  When Grillby has gone over everything that seems important to him, he fells  that  his friend hesitates to ask one last question. He  silently encourages him. The skeleton  lets out a long  sigh and then  asks in an anxious voice:

“When I came here, I saw that the town was surrounded by a fence. And I also caught sigh of quite a few armed humans who were going back and forth. What are they doing here?”

“It’s after you were… kidnapped” he hesitates. “We couldn't find you and we were afraid it would happen to someone else. The human government offered to put guards to protect us… Of course, many were against it, Undyne the first…”

“Yeah, it also allows them to monitor you.”

“… But after a long debate, we accepted, and we also built this fence.”

Sans nods pensively. He remains silent for a few moments.

“So… no one else has been kidnapped?” he asks prudently.

“No, you were the only one.”

“That's great! I was so afraid something had happened to you!”

The skeleton’s smile is radiant, a violent brightness that repels the darkness. It breaks something in the fire monster who can't stop the pain from petrifying him. Sans came back from hell and, now, his only source of joy is to be the only one who suffered what he suffered. At this vision, Grillby feels himself thrown into an icy void.

(<https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/art/I-m-so-glad-to-be-the-only-one-who-suffered-811161720>)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Grillby wanted was for his friend to smile again. Now that it’s done, the pain is only more oppressive.  
It’s in this chapter that the sans//SBAM//, uh, the sense of the title is clearly mentioned, AfterHell. Yes, this story is mostly about the slow reconstruction of Sans u.u (wow revelation!) It was only the prologue actually, until now?! ahah  
Oh and, again, sorry for the delay


	13. He is your master

When the skeleton woke up, he discovered an empty and unknown room. He didn’t understand what was happening; in addition to his inaccessible magic, he could hardly breathe, his vision was blurred, and he felt exhausted. Also, his whole body was numb but it wasn’t for the same reasons, it looked like it was because of beatings. Then, slowly, he began to put together the pieces of the puzzle.

He was with everyone at a party, he had gone to rest, there were these humans and… and what? Everything else was plunged into a thick fog where he sometimes saw a syringe, human forms and words, “sale”, “monster”. He remembered three other humans, different from the first ones, in the same room where he was now.

Anxious, he put himself against the wall, so that the danger could only come from the front, where the door was. He was shaking and felt like throwing up. He didn’t know what they made him swallow but the effects were destructive.

He curled up. Where was Papyrus? And Frisk? And all the others? Were they trapped? Had human anti-monsters attacked their town and taken all the inhabitants? The image of his brother, so innocent, fallen into the hands of dishonest men made his headache worse. He was afraid for him, for them. Extremely afraid.

He concentrated again on his still whistling breath. Maybe they were locked in rooms right next to him, that all he had to do was join them and run away. He had to try it.

He carefully observed the fastening of the chain that linked his neck to the wall. He would never have enough strength to break it without magic. He tried to activate it but all it did was stop him from breathing. The skeleton stopped, out of breath, his head getting more and more painful. What had they given him? What was killing him like that?

Suddenly, he remembered the conversation of the last three men. They had talked about ‘anti-magic’. He winced. If they’d really given him such a product, he had a better understanding of his state. Then, a detail caught his attention: in his memories, the human right in front of him had taken his soul and surrounded it with something…

Sans sharply raised his shirt and checked his soul. Indeed, it was imprisoned by a white tie. He made it appear in his hand and pulled on the thread to remove it.

Directly, a violent pain exploded in his chest and spread throughout his body. He wanted to scream, but no sound could get through the barrier of his mouth. Tensed in two, he vomited a purple liquid. Through the fog of pain, he understood what it was: “Anti-magic.”

* * *

The blue screen was reflected in John’s dry eyes. Images were scrolling at top speed and a finger stopped them when the young man judged them interesting. The other hand was holding a cigarette, regularly brought to the mouth that swallowed the bitter smoke. An umpteenth picture appeared on the phone, a video this time, which activated itself and filled the empty room with a screaming hubbub. He watched the first few seconds then stopped it. Sitting on one of the chairs at his bar, his feet on the table, he was swaying. He bent down, dropped the ashes from the cigarette into a box and then stretched out wide, yawning exaggeratedly. He looked at the time; it was the middle of the afternoon, it was hot and the barman was bored to death.

Suddenly, an alarm rung out. Surprised, his feet jumped off the table and he would have fallen if he hadn’t had the reflex to plunge forward. He calmed his heartbeat then turned his anger against the origin of the noise: next to the ashtray, a gadget flashed red and sounded unbearably loud. John’s eyebrows raised then a grin appeared on his lips. That promised to be interesting. He jumped to his feet, joyful, grabbed the remote, turned off the alarm then hopped to his personal apartments.

A first door required a key; it led to a corridor with other doors. That was where John lived and where he stored some of his liquor. However, the room normally dedicated to this purpose had changed roles. He opened the first on the right – also locked – turned on the light and entered.

The room was completely empty. On the walls crackled because of the humidity, there was nothing, not even a window, the brown traces of old furniture had just marked them. At the back of the room, all the same, a metal plate was screwed to the wall, to which a chain of a few links was connected, to which a collar was attached that gripped the neck of a skeleton. The skeleton was bent double on the floor and couldn’t stop shaking. John smiled even more and approached him.

“Looks like it’s working well, huh?”

The monster settled for back up against the wall, his two skeletal hands clenched to his chest, a black look towards John. The human then squatted down and laughed:

“If you try to remove it, it’s gonna send another shock straight to your soul! You can’t run away, and you’re gonna have to obey me! My name is John. Remember it because I’m your new master.”

Very proud of his monologue, he rose up with a theatrical gesture and went out with panache according to him, in a ridiculous way according to anyone else.

Once alone, Sans curled up on himself. The pain was unbearable, he passed out.

* * *

A cold slap woke him up. He blinked his eye sockets and discovered John, a bucket of water in his hand, which he had just spilled over him.

“Ah, finally! I thought you’d never wake up!” he exclaimed. “Come one, get up, it’s your first day of work today!”

Hismind groggy, his breathing still difficult, the monster could only let the human lift him up. However, he had to lean against the wall, unable to stand upright.

“It’s cool, you’re light!”

He would have liked to tell him to keep his comments to himself, but he was still too sick to talk. And John, a real blabbermouth, only made his headache worse.

“I’m sure people are going to love you! You’re going to make me a lot of money! All right, I unhook you. Ah, but don’t try anything, huh, because otherwise I’m going to electrocute you! And I’d like to avoid that, I don’t want to show a corpse to my customers!”

Sans, no longer listening to him, observed how he was proceeding to set him free; he detached the chain from the metal square but left it on his neck.

“It’s like a leash!” He guffawed. “Be a good dog, Sans!”

The prisoner petrified on the spot when he heard him call him. He knew his name. What did it mean?

“Look, Sans! This is the remote control for the white thread, the one on your soul! But I have a second one, just in case, so don’t be a smartass!”

He’d never seen such an idiot; but if it would allow him to run away quickly, that suited him. So he settled for observe where he put the material away. The key of the metal link in the right pocket of his pants, the remote in one hand, the chain in the other.

John pushed him out of the room. The monster caught himself several times to keep from falling down. He had never felt so weak. He landed in a hallway with several closed doors. Maybe the others were right behind…

“These are my apartments, you can’t go there!” John grumbled, pulling on the chain, wounding the skeleton’s neck.

He looked at him, surprised. Was he lying to him? Or were the other monsters really somewhere else? But then, where? Bought by other humans?

“John, stop talkin’!” someone whistled across the hall.

“Come on, Marc, I do what I want!”

They walked towards the voice. It came from a large room full of tables and chairs. “A bar” Sans noticed anxiously. He couldn’t understand why he was bringing here. He soon spotted a piece of metal fixed to the wall as in the other room, waiting to receive his chain. By the way, John hurried to approach to hooked him up. It was now or never to act. The monster concentrated to gather all the magic he had. He would never have enough to teleport so all it needed was a simple attack, made to kill.

He emptied himself of his energy without being able to make a piece of bone appear. The barman had finished tying him.

“Ya should be more car’ful, John. These things are dangerous.”

“Of course not! You’re nice, huh, Sans?” he said, giving a slap behind the skull of the monster.

Sans gritted his teeth. He was so weak that he couldn’t even dodge that. How was he going to save the others?

Marc rolled his eyes. His friend sat down next to him at a table and admired his bar, and the skeleton.

“It’s perfect like that!” he exclaimed, proud of his work.

Then the two humans talked in low voices so the monster wouldn’t hear them.

Sans sat against the wall. He scrutinized the room, paid attention to the slightest noise and retained everything. Every detail could be useful to him. But it would be easier if there wasn’t that headache and if his body was better. It would be easier if there wasn’t the anti-magic. He had to find a way to remove it.

A sound of footsteps was heard. The monster stood up. Behind him, to his right, was the hallway from which he came; to his left, the counter; in front of him, the tables and chairs; and to his very left, there were steps going up. There were no windows in the two rooms where he had been, which suggested that they were in the basement.

From the stairs a man appeared. The barman stood up immediately and went to the counter.

“Ev’ning! What can I get you?”

“A draught beer.”

“I’ll bring you that.”

The man moved towards Sans, arched an eyebrow but went on his way. The skeleton still didn’t know what he was doing there but, at least, this first customer didn’t seem to be interested in him. He waited a little and sat down again. John served the man and came back to Marc, with a full bottle.

A few minutes later, laughter was heard and four girls arrived from the staircase, at the end of which the entrance to the shop should be. The monster had gotten up again, just in case.

“Hi John! How’s it going?”

He went to greet them and kissed them. They must have been high school girls.

“Damn it, John, what the hell is that horror?”

She was pointing to the skeleton who winced.

“I’m glad you noticed it! It’s Sans, my monster!”

“Wow, it’s yours?”

Sans sighed slightly. Apparently, all the barman wanted was to use him as a tool of seduction, which wasn’t so bad, it gave him time to concoct a plan. In the end, maybe he was lucky.

“Hey, hey, can I take a picture with it?”

“No, don’t do that!” He whispered so the skeleton wouldn’t hear him: “He’s wanted. No one must know he’s here. You’ll get the word across, you promise?”

“Yeah, if y’want. But anyway, who would come looking for it here?” replied the teenager.

“That’s what I think” the young man laughed.

One of the four high school girls came a little closer to the monster.

“Is it really a skeleton? But how can it eat?”

“And fuck?” added another, bursting into laughter.

“It’s magical” the barman bragged of his knowledge.

“Unbelievable. Hey, can’t it take its clothes off to see?”

“To please you” he smiled. He turned towards Sans: “Come on, didn’t you hear? Strip down, these ladies are interested!”

“Wait, do it understand what we’re saying?” asked one of the girls.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess. You know, Marc?”

The man sighed in exasperation.

“Of course it understands what we’re sayin’. Ya think we had the great war against who? Monkeys?”

“Well, whatever!”

One of the teenagers raised Sans’ shirt. He reacted instantly. His hand hit hers to let him go and his eye glowed with a menacing blue aura. If he could have, the human would have already been thrown to the other side of the room. The girl, frightened, screamed.

“John, your monster is just a wild animal!”

“Calm down! Sans, look at this.”

In his hand, he was holding the remote.

“You remember that, don’t you? If you don’t want us to help you undress, do it yourself and do it now!”

In the bar, more and more people had arrived. By now, a dozen or so humans surrounded the skeleton. They went into ecstasies. The master of the place was dangerously shaking the remote control. Sans gritted his teeth. He wondered once again where his friends were. He thought he’d like to go back a day. He felt his breathing, still difficult, wondered how long he would survive, how long Papyrus would survive such a treatment. Understood that he didn’t have any time.

And the laughter was growing, growing, dragging him, burying him, to finally drown him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Sans, it could be more or less fine if looking at you was enough to satisfy their curiosity. Unfortunately, you’re an animal to them and all they’ll want to do is prove their superiority by humiliating you.


	14. Even if you don’t want to, you continue to give up on him

When Gaster had learned of his son’s disappearance, his first thought had gone to Frisk, who could fix everything with her reset power. She had only used it once, because her first attempt to get them out of the Underground had failed. So she had started the timeline again, and this time, she had succeeded in destroying the barrier. Then the reality had fallen back on the scientist, crushing his hopes: the child had lost her powers.

Since they had left the Underground, the scientist had begun to study the effects of the magic wall had had on their organism. How did a simple human like Frisk ended up being able to use saves? Once the barrier had been destroyed, the human had returned a simple human and the monsters, simple monsters, without life bar, without battle screen. It’s this phenomenon that Gaster was studying. But what was the point? Who was it for? Meanwhile, his son was nowhere to be found, and he was completely useless.

It was odd that the Sans’ disappearance affected him so much. The scientist was convinced that something had happened to him – he would never worry his brother unnecessarily – but was it so important? In the end, this skeleton was just a monster among monsters, who hated him and who refused to see him. However, Gaster discovered at that moment that he had never wanted this, that he bitterly regretted it, and above all, that it was too late.

He had wanted to help look for him, but he knew nothing about his son; he hadn’t seen him for years. His friends and his brother were much more aware and it was finally to them that the police turned. The scientist was then settled for being overwhelmed by remorse.

But now, he can fix his mistakes. He knows that he will never make up for lost time, and that even if he does everything he can, Sans may never forgive him. However, he won’t make the same mistake twice. This time, he will not give up.

Re-establishing links is harder than he had imagined. Very quickly, as soon as Sans regained the ability to speak, a tension between the two of them arose. Gaster is visiting his son three times a day; his son just wouldn’t want to see him. He hates being manipulated and, of course, the scientist does it regularly to check on the evolution of his injuries. It even happened that Sans pushed him back firmly, telling him that he was doing fine and that it would heal on its own. On his face, Gaster had clearly perceived this feeling that sometimes grips his son, this feeling that tells that nothing matters anymore, that in the end, it’s not worth fighting, that it’s time to give up, to give up life. It had made his blood boil and he had refused to leave, not until he had treated him. Grillby had to intervene before the argument broke out too violently.

The scientist wants Sans to get better, but he has the feeling that his mere presence makes him suffer. He’d better leave, in that case. However, it was giving up on him again, wasn’t it? That would be repeating the same mistake. What should he do, then?

He doesn’t know why, but his son is trying to hide from the barman and him that he’s making a lot of efforts to walk normally again. According to him, he is spending his time sitting at the window, observing outside – making sure staying hidden. Yet, his huge progress demonstrate that he’s doing the exercises that the scientist showed him every day. And there’s that glow in his pupils, that black glow that even Grillby doesn’t know about and that worries them. It is now that Gaster must stay with his son at all costs, to support him, even if it exasperates Sans. Just like now.

“It’s done?”

“I just need to check your magic level.”

Sans sighs but still hands him his soul. His magic has difficulty coming back, so much so that the skeleton is still unable to invoke a single bone. The scientist is currently looking for a solution, but for the moment, he doesn’t know what to propose other than to wait.

“I’m done.”

The soul reintegrates his son’s body; he stands upright. At the same instant, they hear the front door close.

“It’s Grillby!”

The two skeletons meet the barman in the living room.

“Did it go well?”

“Yes. How’d it go with you? Has Sans’ magic made any progress?”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Still not” Gaster sighs.

“Have you seen my brother?”

“Yes, he came by.”

“Was he okay?”

“Yes, he was fine. Are you eating with us, Gaster?”

“Thanks, but I’ll head back.”

“Here you go, Sans. I thought you might like that.”

The skeleton takes what Grillby hands him. It’s a bottle of ketchup. He runs his finger over the label, smiles. It’s been a while since he’s seen any, at least in a bottle. Because several times he had been thrown leftovers with this sauce in his face, and the customers laughed: “That’s what a monster eats, isn’t it?” They passed his soul from hand to hand, to see it, it which was so different from theirs: “What happens if I press here?” And the skeleton, naked, soulless, bones covered with garbage, powerless, gritted his teeth while the humans screamed with joy, louder and louder, more and more numerous, because it was funny, it was funny to destroy him.

A sudden sound startles him. He realizes where he is, starts breathing again. At his feet, the ketchup bottle has shattered and pieces of glass have scattered in all directions.

“Are you okay, Sans?” Grillby worries.

“Yes, I… I’m sorry, I’m going to clean this up.”

“No, I got it. Move away a little, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Sans goes to stop him, he reaches out his hand, but he realizes that it is quivering dreadfully. Then, in a jolt, he hides it, he doesn’t want anyone to see it. Gaster notices it, as he notices that his whole body is shivering and that he is sweating profusely. He approaches him, puts his hands forward to take him in his arms but stops. His son will surely push him away. Undecided, he steps back and does nothing, leaving him trembling alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even if you don’t want to, you continue to give up on him. You’ve got a lot of effort to do on your part too, Gaster.  
Feel free to leave a comment ^^


	15. That blood dripping

It had gotten worse. The monster thought that, little by little, his body would get used to the anti-magic and that he could have coherent ideas again. This was not the case. On the contrary, as the days went by, he seemed to lose more and more of his strength each time. His skull had become a permanent buzzing noise; he often had moments of absence, any time, when he would sink into cold darkness where he wouldn't be able to go out anymore.

John continued to make him ‘work’ at the bar. He was used as an entertainment, and the humans never seemed to tire of him. They asked questions, wanted to see, wanted to touch. A knife-throwing contest had been organized, the wounds still hadn’t closed. In his times of consciousness, Sans took care of them. His ‘master’ had been kind enough to leave him water for washing and drinking, a bucket for his business and to give him a decent meal three times a day. Fortunately, otherwise he would already be dust.

He was still looking for a way out. He noted all the possible details in his head, but no longer had the strength to memorize them. He yet kept hope. There had to be a flaw, the barman was too stupid to have thought of everything… That’s what he was thinking about when Marc came sweating and bleeding into the bar. John rushed towards him.

“What’s happening to you? Damn it…”

“Shut up” he cut him off “I didn’t come here so ya can play mother with me! Gimme some drink!”

The barman took a worried look at the tables in his bar.

“Marc” he whispered “you’re scaring the customers.”

“Oh yeah?” A nasty smile crossed his lips, and he shouted, turning to the consumers: “What do I give a shit? If they’re not happy, they can say so!”

His eyes fell on Sans.

“Hey, yar dog’s out?” he grunted between his teeth.

The monster, standing, couldn’t help taking a defensive position. The human had focused all his attention on him, and he didn’t like that.

“How much for ya to untie it and I’ll fight it?”

It took John a few moments to realize he was talking to him.

“What? No! You’re gonna kill it!”

“I’m payin’, so it’s okay, no? That’s the whole point of yer ‘games’. Ya think I ain’t know ’bout the dagger throwin’ and everything else?”

The skeleton attended the debate in silence but was becoming more and more anxious. The barman seemed to hesitate and then, in front of his friend’s black look, he gave in: “All right, but if you kill it, you’re paying me back, okay? And with the interest, I make a lot of money off it you know.”

“Sold.”

The room, until then dumbfounded, was suddenly filled with screams:

“Twenty on Mark!”

“And me fifty!”

“Don’t fuck around! It’s a magical monster in front of him! Sixty on the monster!”

The noise was getting louder as the bets went up. John approached the skeleton, the remote control in hand.

“If you try to run away, I will not hesitate, OK? For now, you better win. OK?” And since Sans didn’t answer: “OK?”

He nodded.

“Good dog.”

The monster clenched his fists in contained rage but did not flinch.

The barman passed behind him and, suddenly, the grip around his neck gave way. Incredulous, he brought his fingers to the back of his neck, which came back slightly bloody. However, the weight of the chain had disappeared, and he felt finally free.

If he managed to win against the human, perhaps the astonishment it would create would allow him to flee… It was conceivable, especially since the man in question was already wounded. Then, a detail struck him. Marc was bloody, yes, but it wasn’t his blood.

Around the two opponents, a human circle had formed. The tables had been moved to make room. Marc put on knuckle-dusters. He took Sans very seriously. The skeleton had adopted the on guard position. He had no room for error. John, behind the counter, gave the signal: “Let’s go!”

Directly, Marc attacked the monster. Sans threw himself to the side to avoid him. The next moment, he was standing, facing his opponent, and painfully dodging the human blows.

He had been too optimistic. His body was weak and his magic still inaccessible, he had no chance of beating the man and thus escape. The only goal he kept was to stay alive.

“So what? I didn’t pay for that! Gimme a real fight, monster!” Marc got annoyed.

He attacked Sans’ legs but the skeleton jumped back before rolling over to the side to dodge another blow. He was out of breath. He got up again with difficulty to avoid an attack but the human crushed with all his weight one of the skeleton’s bare feet with his boot to prevent him from fleeing.

With an icy smile, he whispered to him: “Gotcha!”

The metal came to meet his left orbit. There was no resistance. The bone cracked then shattered. Part of the skull exploded.

The monster was still standing a moment ago, yet, when he opened his eyes again, he was on the ground and the humans had approached to observe him. Two voices were louder than the others, John blaming Marc for killing him, Marc saying it was his fault, he was too weak.

The noise was unbearable. The skeleton gritted his teeth. He carried a trembling hand up his skull, but only found emptiness. And as if it had waited for this moment, the pain came violently, everything turned red. Sans screamed.

* * *

Papyrus screamed. All eyes turned to him, but he didn’t notice it. There was only this suffering, devastating, he knew was not his, even though he wished it was.

“What’s the matter?” Undyne worried.

She tried to take him in her arms but the skeleton remained doubled up. His tears kept flowing, and he was gripping his shirt at chest level. The pain became stronger, spread throughout his entire body, keeping him from breathing, compulsively agitating his limbs.

“Papyrus! It’s me, Undyne! Pull yourself together!”

Alphys, hitherto staying a little aside, came closer. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“Papyrus, you-you’re doing a panic attack. Do-Don’t worry, focus on-on your breath and-and you’ll feel better.”

The monster, unable to speak, shook his head. No, it wasn’t that, not a panic attack, no, they didn’t understand, it was, it was…

“He doesn’t calm down...” whispered the reptile female to the guard.

“You take care of him, I call Gaster.”

The scientist came as quick as possible. The two friends  had  managed to make Papyrus sit but his shivers hadn’t stop, his breathing was still painful and his sobs  hadn’t dried up. He  hadn’t said a word.

Gaster knelt down in front of him and quietly asked him what was happening. His son opened his mouth, moaned. His soul was shining with a dark glow. He finally managed to pronounce in a hoarse voice: “It’s Sans… It’s Sans, he… he’s suffering…”

And for a moment, it was as if Sans was actually standing before them. It was incredible the feelings the two brothers shared.

(<https://www.deviantart.com/naarci/art/The-link-that-unites-them-814358961?ga_submit_new=10%3A1569312817>)

Few monsters believed in Papyrus' delusions, but Gaster didn’t, he was convicted of them. It didn’t allow knowing where was the skeleton but it proved there was still hope.

“Sans is suffering” he repeated.

“Yes, a lot…” he whimpered.

“It means he is alive, Papyrus. He is alive!”

Papyrus nodded but still burst into tears. The scientist took him in his arms. He had seen him sink little by little, and he didn’t doubt it was  a reflect ion of what  Sans was going through .  He hoped he, too, could feel the link that united him with his brother, so he would know they were looking for him, that he shouldn’t give up. However, it was possible that with the suffering he was enduring he was unaware of his very existence.

Another thing worried him. Papyrus was more or less feeling his brother’s emotions. Until now, he shared his  ordeal, but also a thin hope. What would happen when Sans lost this hope? Would Gaster be able to  pick up Papyrus? And most importantly, if Sans died, would Papyrus survive it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans’ huge wound came rather quickly after his arrival at the bar. We can thank Marc for his cheerful intervention u.u  
The much-vaunted link uniting Sans and Papyrus… It’s thanks to it that Papyrus can affirm that Sans is alive. It is not common, which is why few monsters believe in Papyrus’ claims. This link, useless to find and thus save Sans, was nevertheless very useful at times! To be discovered later ;)


	16. The link between them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank you all for reading this fanfiction! I appreciate every single person who leaves a kudo, a review, or takes the time to read! This story is important to me and, with JimEkas, we do our best for translation, and seeing that some people take the time to read it means the world to us!

“Sans is getting better.”

Grillby almost spilled milk next to the glass. Usually, when Papyrus comes to the bar, he doesn’t say a word. Today, the barman has noticed that he stands more upright and his features reflect a little less sadness, but he never imagined he would smile. Yet, at this moment, the skeleton is quite cheerful.

Those words, ‘he’s getting better’, might have appeased the fire monster, but that’s not really the case. He sees his friend every day, he sees him spend hours staring outside through the window pane, silently, smoking cigarette after cigarette, far too much, he knows his uneasiness about his magic not coming back and above all, he is afraid of this dark look that settles in his pupils, spreading in his soul. So he finds it hard to believe the little brother’s words.

However, if he says so, it must be true. The affinity the two skeletons share is incredible. Gaster is convinced that it only works one way, because Sans would suffer too much to feel it, but Grillby doesn’t think so. He is sure that his friend is not aware of its existence, but it is also possible that it influences him without him realizing it. The barman knows him too well not to notice that his behavior with his father has changed. Previously, no matter what would have happened, he would never, never ever, have let him help him in any way, but he has changed, thanks to his brother.

During this one year, the father and the son, who until then had had a simple, coldly respectful relationship, grew closer together to the point of creating deep links. Papyrus would have unconsciously transmitted his feelings towards Gaster to Sans. Of course, this is just a hypothesis based on little evidence. He has a second, more concrete.

He doesn’t know how Sans got back to the monsters village. Maybe he was in the end locked up right nearby, but what if he was miles and miles away? No human contacted Asgore to warn him that he’d encountered a skeleton, so he avoided homes and towns. He didn’t have a map, and was unable to teleport. In that case, how had he guided himself, if not by following his instincts, which is none other than the bond that unites him with his brother?

Papyrus is extraordinary. His simple existence has saved his loved one. Today, Sans is making a lot of efforts, mostly for him. Grillby would like so much to tell him, as he would like so much to be as useful to Sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I often describe Grillby as ‘the silent helper’. However, he himself is convinced that he is not being helpful. Think again, dear! You’re always trying your best to help your friend, you do everything in your power and it works. Thank goodness you’re there for him.


End file.
